The Diplodocus

Emotional Whiplash May 30, 2007

A brief recap: Though we’d been living apart for some time prior, in February I asked MC to marry me (she said yes). So over the last three months I’ve been negotiating a long distance relationship not with my girlfriend, but with my fiancée. The way you perceive the difference is probably a Rorschach test for your general feelings on marriage; for me, what is essentially a category change and an extra piece of jewelry has made the MC-shaped hole in my life significantly larger and more apparent.

It’s nearly impossible to not feel lonely when the longing is for one specific person. Of course, over the last few months I’ve also become accustomed to living with a massive emptiness lingering over everything. When people asked how we dealt with being apart, I’ve had no easy answer. We just did. And we got used to it. The fact that I had become comfortable with being a solitary and independent being when on the cusp of getting married is alarming, but it happened.

Then she came to town for about 67 hours. Minus the 8 hours plus commute on Thursday (work), we were together 58 hours. Minus moments necessarily spent apart (there were some), 57 hours. Fifty-seven hours with a woman I haven’t seen in three months. Who I won’t see again for three more. For those 57 hours, we did everything together. And that felt so good to say: “We.” “Us.”

Now the wound is fresh again. Despite (or because of?) the brevity of the visit. Belaboring the analogy: the scab’s been torn off, and I’m not used to it anymore. Monday evening I saw a couple at a coffee shop, clearly on their first or second date, flirting, joking, being uncomfortable together. Normally I’d smile happily and remember doing the same with her before turning back to my newspaper. But, freshly bleeding, I can admit: I hated them.

I can calculate how far away she is a million different ways, each equally insurmountable and painful. We’re supposed to be engaged, and experiencing every minute of that feeling of potential, the freedom and the stress, the hope for the future and the fears of forever. And we are — from 13 timezones, a continent and a large ocean, 6945 miles apart.